


Insert Name Here

by missmollyetc



Series: Inspector Meets World [1]
Category: Lewis (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/pseuds/missmollyetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What possible sense was there to be had in assigning a security detail to a bunch of American superheroes?  Honestly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insert Name Here

**Author's Note:**

> For [Dira](http://dira.dreamwidth.org), who requested a paragraph and received an entire fic instead, for the prompt: "Tony Stark is proposing marriage to Robbie Lewis on behalf of Natasha Romanov, but Natasha thinks Tony means to take Lewis for themself! What drama results?"

Robbie has no bleeding clue why the Avengers-- _what_ a name--decided the High was the perfect place to play tourist, and he never would have thought that these so-called superheroes needed a security detail, but as it turns out they did and they do, so Innocent has he and Hathaway playing tagalong while Tony Stark and Natasha Romanov window shop. 

"Interesting, isn't it, sir?" Hathaway says, bending to Robbie's ear.

"What is?" Robbie asks, scanning the crowds, who seem bizarrely unaware of exactly who they're rubbing elbows with.

There's a stir amongst the smart set Innocent called the Avenger's support team, all trying to pretend they aren't listening carefully while Captain America walks next to Barton, talking about his last trip to Oxford. He'd tried to call the man Steve, as requested, but even Robbie has a hard time with that. His grandda had stories about the Howling Commandos that curled Robbie's ears as a lad. Robbie turns his head, sharing a raised eyebrow with Hathaway, before going back to ignoring the lot of them.

"What is?" Robbie prompts again.

"Ms. Romanov," Hathaway says, nodding in the lady's direction. "I was under the impression that Russian surnames were gender-specific."

"Oh?" Robbie says, putting his hands in his pockets.

He is supposed to be undercover crowd control, after all. He nods his head, watching Ms. Romanov standing in front of the Bar One, waiting while a crowd of twenty-somethings crashes their way across the intersection. They all stop, the entire none-too-subtle crowd of them, and then cross the street like the beaches at Normandy. Hathaway shrugs with his face, lips pursing briefly.

"Well, yes sir," he says, crossing his arms over his chest, and gripping his elbows. "Strictly speaking, she should be 'Romanova,' because--"

"Oh come on," Tony Stark says from behind Robbie's elbow. "You're legally required to stare at my fair commando all day, and the only thing you can come up with is Russian naming conventions?"

Hathaway's head jerks up as his arms go down. Robbie turns his head quickly. Tony Stark, the man himself, grins at them, teeth too bright against his tan, wearing wraparound sunglasses. He's bouncing on his toes like a kid at Christmas, where Robbie knows for a fact the man won't be seeing forty again anytime soon. He takes a deep breath and a polite step backwards.

"As you say, sir," he says, gesturing Stark forward.

Stark's grin widens. Instead of meandering on to ooh and aah at the entrance to Christchurch like a proper VIP, he falls into step with them, and slings an arm around Robbie's shoulders. Hathaway stiffens.

"Now, here's the thing you gotta remember about Natasha," Stark says, as they all turn into walk the grounds. "See, she's a mover and a shaker--mostly a shaker, personal experience--and if you honestly object to the name I can't help you, she likes it--but I suppose the only real alternative is to give her something better in exchange, don't you think?"

"Excuse me? Mr. Stark?" Robbie asks, shrugging out of Stark's grip.

He walks a few steps forward, Hathaway on his heels, and Stark ambling alongside, sticking his hands in his pockets. This is a man in charge of world security. Robbie shakes his head.

"You could always marry her," Stark says cheerfully, looking at him over the rim of those ridiculous sunglasses. "Make her an honest woman. Natasha Lewis, it's a good name, solid, reminds me of this secretary I had before Pepper stockholmed me, now she had these--"

"Tony," Ms. Romanov says, and Stark freezes, hands in mid-cup at his chest.

Robbie presses his lips together, looks down and then back up as Ms. Romanov...well, slinks over from the side of the path, sunlight glimmering on her red curls. She's a beautiful lass and no mistake, and in a younger moment Robbie would have been tongue-tied and blushing at every twitch of her curving mouth. As it is, he takes a deep breath, catches a hint of spiced perfume in the air, and nods to her. Hathaway shifts at his side, and he is blushing, Robbie can see out the corner of his eye.

"Ma'am," he says.

"Inspector," Ms. Romanov nods. "Is Tony trying to steal you away from me? You can't believe a word he says, you know."

Tony winces, dropping his hands, which Robbie's not too proud to admit he takes a secret pleasure in. She's been the dream of the entire detail, polite, cooperative, willing to let them do their jobs and never seeming to mind the obvious tail, but Robbie can see a look in her eye that reminds him of our Lynn as a girl, hiding crickets in her mum's china cupboard. Hathaway shifts next to him, huffing at the air.

"Not at all, ma'am," Robbie says, "Mr. Stark's just been informing us about the importance of names."

"Has he?" She asks, swinging her shopping bag like a missile between her and Stark. "Well, as long as he's not dividing your attention..."

Stark raises his hands to the sky, and sighs heavily. "'Tasha. Nat. My dear sweet Widow, how long have you known me now? Three years? Two? That month we--"

"I was just wondering," Hathaway breaks in over Stark's chatter. "How it is that your name doesn't follow conventional Russian naming customs, Ms. Romanov, and Mr. Stark here was kind enough to elucidate."

Ms. Romanov raises an eyebrow in Stark's direction, and Stark, to his credit, only backs up a single step. "Oh?" she asks.

"Hey, I only let them know that you've never been all that attached to names," Tony says. "Right, _Natalie?_ "

"Well, I'm afraid Lewis is taken," Hathaway says, coughing slightly.

Everyone freezes for a moment. Robbie is suddenly very conscious of the mid-afternoon sun beating down on his back, and the way Hathway's fingers are settling a little shakily above his elbow. The two Avengers watch them, Stark behind his sunglasses and Romanov through the fall of her curls, and a sudden tension springs through the air. Robbie clears his throat, and licks his lips, trying to believe that the heat warming the base of his cheeks is sunburn and not a blush. He's too old to blush, damn it, and--and there you are.

Ms. Romanov smiles, a thin curving of her lips, and grabs Stark by the lapel of his already crumpled suit. "We'll be joining Steve and the others by the roses now," she says, cheerfully. "I'll expect you two to follow along in due time?"

"Of course, ma'am," Robbie says, nodding a little more abruptly than he intended.

She walks away, not so much leaning on Stark as she is dragging him, and Robbie can hear Stark already talking a mile a minute as they go--probably about things that are none of his business too. Rich men are like that.

Hathaway's fingers drop from Robbie's arm, and Robbie glances up at him. "Taken, am I?" he asks, putting his hand in his pocket.

Hathaway leans in a bit more closely than is strictly professional. "Well, that's what I thought, sir," he says in Robbie's ear.

Robbie nods. "Just as well, then," he says.

And they follow the Avengers down the path.


End file.
